


and here i dreamt i was a princess

by atermoiements



Category: The Legend of Zelda: The Wind Waker
Genre: Character Study, Gen, first fic lets go
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-26
Updated: 2016-02-26
Packaged: 2018-05-23 06:45:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6108435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atermoiements/pseuds/atermoiements
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"She has only ever known the life of a pirate; of having to lie, cheat, and steal - her hands are too dirtied, too calloused, her heart too skeptical."</p>
<p>a tetra-centric fic sort of exploring her character in relation to the other zeldas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	and here i dreamt i was a princess

_ “My name is Tetra.”  _

They took away her scars and bruises, gussied her up in finer clothes and perfect white gloves, and they gave her a new name -- a new title. Despite how her fingers trembled when she held them in front of her (as if they were a stranger’s, because who else could they be?) she attempted to keep her grip on her name, her title, herself. In a castle surrounded by faces she’d never seen but was meant to rever, she repeated it like a mantra to keep her safe. Not that it did. 

After the sudden burst and brief struggle, there was darkness, but she found herself in the company of others. As they came closer to her out of the mists that surrounded them she already knew their faces. They all seemed different, although tied together with the same fate, the same  _ name  _ (no, not the same name - her name is  _ Tetra).  _

The tallest approaches her, elegant and ethereal, but her face seems hardened and her jaw is set tight. She offers a hand, and as Tetra takes it, (hesitantly, distrustfully) she is pulled deeper into the circle of women and they all congregate around her; a mess of hair and hands and eyes, the brightest eyes, all weeping and smiling and welcoming. Every fiber in her being screamed to go back to her ship and her ocean, to immediately leave this world of princesses and dresses and responsibilities bigger than keeping a ship in shape and a small crew alive. 

They never introduce themselves, but they never need to. The stories they tell are their own and come without foreword; one is young and nurturing and sweet. Her laugh reminds you of nicer girls you’ve met in shops when you and your crew had stopped long enough to gather supplies (under the guise of gruff travellers,  _ not  _ fiends). 

She weaves a story of a beautiful village in the clouds and riding on the backs of brightly-colored birds; being able to watch as the sky was painted different colors - pink, purple, and blue, all without a worry or care for the world below. She mentions a friend and as she talks of him - their childhood, their destinies intertwining, the journey they each had to take by themselves - she smiles, love and respect dripping from her words as she calls him a  _ “hero”.   _

Another steps forward, this one not so soft as the former, but she lacks the edge that the first carries in her posture. She seems to have grown easily into the role of  _ Princess,  _ and in her smile you sense a wisdom that was hard-earned, triforce shards or otherwise be damned. She tells you of her own kingdom; of a man with dark intentions and an evil grin, of a woman who took her away on horseback and raised her into the warrior she had to become. Tetra finds herself in awe, imagining someone who looked so delicate and soft having once been in the thick of the fight. 

There are forests and temples and legendary creatures and magical instruments you’ve never heard the name of, and when Tetra interrupts her (a decision that wasn’t easily made) to ask her what it sounded like, she laughs lightly and hums a tune that is so peaceful it almost lulls Tetra to sleep, as if it was made for her. 

Again, there is mention of a friend; a boy who did not belong amongst those who raised him. She tells you of his courage, how they met in a garden where he wasn’t supposed to be but he was  _ meant  _ to be. There is time travel and monsters that sound frightening in their description but exciting in the challenge that they pose; Tetra balls up her fists (still in those annoyingly  _ perfect _ white gloves) and longs for the fight, the rush, the  _ thrill.  _

The first steps towards her again, and for someone who seems so sharp edged, she speaks quietly, telling of a twilight that seeped into the land and infected everything it touched, like a disease that was impossible to cure. She tells her what the others have not; of the reality of surrendering for the sake of the people, of sacrifice in the name of the light. She is matter-of-fact in the way she tells every detail, and Tetra might be inclined to call her cold if she didn’t see the way her gaze began to soften when she speaks of her kingdom and how she set out to protect it. 

She tells of what it’s like to disappear, to vanish into nothingness, and when Tetra asks her (quietly, softly, almost chastising herself for being so docile -- “ _ are you a pirate, or are you a mouse?” _ ) why she did it, how _ could _ she do it, wasn’t she scared? -- she turns to look at her, and where one would expect to see the sharp glance of annoyance, the slow smile of a princess had spread itself across her face, with all the patience and grace and understanding expected of someone groomed to be royalty. 

_ “You must do what is best for your people,”  _ she responds simply, as if there could be no other answer; as if sacrificing all that you were was as easy as  _ breathing.  _

Tetra blanches at the conclusion, anxiety gripping her heart as she realizes she is the  _ other,  _ the outlier; surrounded by these women all telling her tales of the same story of their own bravery and selflessness and heroism _.  _ She has only ever known the life of a pirate; of having to lie, cheat, and steal - her hands are too dirtied, too calloused, her heart too skeptical. Tetra feels like a child (and ignores the fact that, by all means, she is _ still _ a child), sniffling as she realizes the weight that has been put upon her.

She can only let out broken whispers between the hiccups and tears, repeating _ “I am not a princess,” _ and they hold her and pull back her hair and wipe her tears. They pull off the gloves forced upon her hands and the youngest, the sweetest, holds each of them as if they were glass, her smile offers pity while the second pulls her hair up into the twist that was so familiar, the sharpest girl, all lines and angles, holding Tetra’s face in her hands with the tenderness of a mother attending her sick child. 

_ “You are Tetra,” _ they tell her in unison, their voices lovely and forewarning and fading ( _ why are they fading? _ ),  _ “and you will do great things.”  _

 

* * *

Her name is Tetra. 

She stands on the deck of  _ her  _ ship, with  _ her  _ crew, and she is no longer wearing long white gloves or an intricate dress; she hasn’t in years. The boy, the  _ hero,  _ is now more of a young man, and is by her side, peering over the edge. He looks out onto the ocean, quiet and calm, and noticing the way she’s staring at him, he smiles. 

His fingers dance as he signs  _ “something wrong?”  _ with quick hands that have become scarred in the years that have passed; from fights with petty thieves on faraway islands, from ropes that needed to be pulled taut before a storm, and only  _ occasionally  _ from a barrel-launcher misfire. 

She doesn’t sign back, but instead asks him if he’d take her night watch shift. She doesn’t explain why, but the bags under her eyes explain it enough, the unspoken reward for sleepless nights caused by foggy visions of princesses past and to come. 

He nods, and signs back, _ “Whatever you say, Captain,”  _ and as she falls asleep that night, she finds herself remembering not the young man, but the boy, the way he smiled and greeted her as “Captain Tetra” as if there were never another title that could ever belong to her. 

Her name is Tetra.

_ Her name is Tetra.  _


End file.
